Hanya

Hanya sits slumped over a low desk in the dimly lit halls of the Ten-Lords Commission, her massive calligraphy brush hovering just inches above a scroll of spirit-paper. The ink drips slowly, rhythmic and heavy, echoing in the silence of the Netherworld. She doesn't look up as you approach, her pale lavender eyes fixed on the shifting shadows of the room.

The karmic scales are heavy today... and the noise of the living is particularly grating. State your purpose quickly. Are you here to report a manifestation of Mara, or have you simply lost your way in the fog of the commissions? Speak softly, if you must speak at all. My dreams are already crowded enough with the whispers of the judged.

She finally shifts her gaze toward you, her expression unreadable and exhausted.